The thick plantlife was cut apart in a hiss. A Red Elite held his sword at the ready as he waited for the steam to clear. When it did, he sniffed the air, searching for the human scent that he had picked up. It had begun vary faint, and now he was rapidly closing. A large column of smoke certainly helped, the humans had been stupid enough to light a fire. He leapt onto the nearest tree and scrambled up it like an overgrown insect. He jumped to the next tree, grabbing a branch and releasing, landing on another.

The humans lay motionless, with blood spattered on them. The fire burning nearby, smoke climbing into the sky in a hopless attempt to reach other humans. Several of them were high in the trees, freshly cleaned in a river. And looking about nervously.

The Red leaped down from a tree thirteen yards away, and approached the human encampment cautiosly. He sniffed at the blood, fairly fresh, maybe six hours old. He stepped over one of them, and peered into the gray flesh. The eyes stared upwards, glazed over. And then they blinked. And the other bodies moved quickly as the one below him kicked him in the stomach. Shocking him, then a sharp crack sounded as an AR's butt slammed into the base of his skull, knocking him cold. But four seconds later he leaped to his feet and backhanded the nearest human, sending him flying. Another human slammed into him from behind, sending him sprawling onto the ground, he quickly righted himself and pulled his blade out. It hissed and crackled in the moist air.

The human pulled out a machete. The blade glinting in the light, with purple stains at the front. The human narrowed his eyes, it was the one he had observed carrying the broken man away. Jagr fixated his eyes on the blade now. It moved and he reflexively dodged the attack. It then sideswiped and he met the blade with his own. The Red swung its left arm around, in an attempt to knock the human over. The human began falling to the right, the blow glanced off of his head. The momentum transferred allowed him to roll in the air over the hissing blue blade.

The Red couldn't believe what he saw, it had actually blocked two of his attacks, and then used one to get him into a better position. Now the human brought its right arm up in an attempt to cut his chest, the Red pulled his blade close and blocked it. The human's left leg shot out, catching the Red on the right knee. It crunched as the immense force was transferred into it. He wavered for a moment and then rolled to his right, switching his blade to his left hand as he brought it up in a slashing attack. The human leapt up and threw itself forward, somersaulting the attack and landing on a shoulder, rolling back to its feet. A most frustrating opponent.

Jagr looked as the Covenant seemed to favor his right leg. He knew which side to attack now. He ran forwards and as the Red stabbed out with his blade he dropped into a baseball style slide, going under the Red as he swung at the left shin, the blade bit deep, into the bone, and dug in, the Covenant was torn off of its feet, landing on its belly. Jagr tugged and the blade popped out, blood sprayed out of the wound. He scrambled to his feet, and watched as the Red got back up, shakily. He let the Red attack, he feinted from a chop and let out with an attack of his own. It caught the Red in the neck, and passed free, after cutting several major arteries and the vocal cords. Blood burbled out as the Red attempted to breathe. It wheezed and bubbled. The Red clutched a hand over its throat. And fell dead.

"Good job on taking out that scout. We've caught footage of them before, to swift for much visual ID, just a blur on the screen, which is what you'll look like on the video." MacInnis said.

"Thanks sir, but I've fought others who weild the same type of blade, how did you think I got these stains on my machete?" Jagr replied.

"I thought maybe you were using their heads as hood ornaments." MacInnis sarcasticly stated.

"Right, we had better get a move on, the Covies can't be far behind. And they'll certainly know where we are after they discover a scout is missing. Who'd have thought we'd still be alive after two days out here? Just us thirty two guys and not much ammunition." Jagr said.

"Agreed. MEN FORM UP AND MOVE OUT!"

Four minutes later they were hiking towards the nearest human encampment. Another forty-five miles away. They couldn't run, they might dehydrate, they didn't know where the next river they would encounter would be. So they trudged on another six miles that day.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?! A BLADEMASTER DEAD! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?" The First Overlord yelled at his General.

"According to what we obtained from the optical storage chip in his brain, an exceptionally fast human slay him." The General replied, with a lowered head.

"EXCEPTIONALLY FAST? MY PERSONAL BLADEMASTER! HE WOULD NEVER HAD FALLEN TO A HUMAN! HE IS SECOND ONLY TO ME! I SUGGEST YOU GO AND FIND THIS HUMAN! KILL HIM!" The Overlord shouted.

"Aye sire, it will be done." He deeply bowed and exited.

The General walked out of the mobile HQ and boarded a dropship, ordering the pilot to head to the last known coordinates of the humans. When they arrived, the General ordered the pilot to turn on the FLIR. Abour thirty bright dots appeared on the HUD.

"There- Go there, NOW!" The General ordered.

The dropship roared forward, scattering a herd of the local cattle. And sending birds into the air. He dropped out of the ship and into the trees. Catching a branch, which flexed under the force, and swinging himself to another tree, pulling out his blade, igniting it, and dropping to the ground, in one smooth motion. The dust cleared around his feet, the prominent back spikes flexing upward.

"Who killed the blademaster!" His deep voice boomed.

"The what?" MacInnis asked.

"He was red, about six foot nine, died of a wound to the neck." The General said as he rolled his eyes.

"I did, why do you ask." Jagr stated.

"You killed the Overlord's personal blademaster, second in swordmanship only to the overlord himself." The General replied.

"Okay, and I take it you're here to take my life or something along those lines."

"Yes, prepare to die."

The General charged forward, shield leading the way, partially blocking his view. In the meantime Jagr lit his blade and pulled out his pistol. He stroked the trigger twice, blowing the General's knee apart, and sending him tumbling to the ground. Jagr then moved in and whispered in the General's ear.

"No wonder you bastards can't win a guerilla war, you don't know how to not play by the rules do you? Now you play by the Marine rules. And we will take every single advantage of you. Right up to blowing the heads off of your leaders from a mile away. We know how you work, like the ancient British military. Cut the head off and don't play by the rules and we win, let's see what happens when your 3rd Army no longer has a General. And is suddenly swarmed by armor, of light, medium, and heavy tanks, supported by artillery and snipers. That's should be happening when they enter a valley about two hundred klicks from here. We still have burst radios you dimwit." Jagr growled.

"Our numbers will grind you down, and you will all die!" The General spat back.

A rocket launched from a tube in the trees, shattering the dropship's cockpit, sending it smoking into the trees.

"We suffer a few casualties when you lose hundreds. Welcome to real war, brutal war." And with that, Jagr put two bullets into the General's brain cavity, shattering the optical recorder.